


Explorations and Revelations

by Brynncognito



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Food, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Issues, M/M, Nonbinary Bucky Barnes, Nonbinary Character, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 18:25:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4532532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brynncognito/pseuds/Brynncognito
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>See, on the surface James Buchanan Barnes has always seemed like a pretty solid representation of traditional masculinity. Sure, he's always spent a bit too long getting ready for dates with whatever dame had caught his eye at the time, and he had prettier and better-kept nails than plenty of women he'd known, but you only saw those details when you really got to him.</p><p>To everyone else, Bucky seemed very solidly male.</p><p>Except.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rookshadow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rookshadow/gifts).



> A commission for the wonderful Rookshadow!
> 
> Somewhat spoilery warnings at the end, if you're worried about triggers and such.

These days, with how much HYDRA fucked with his head while they had him, he can't be sure of _anything_. On his worst days, he's certain this whole thing he's got going with Steve and the Avengers is just some fantasy cooked up by HYDRA to keep him compliant.

But even if he doesn't have any way to _know_ whether his memories are real without bringing it up to Steve, Bucky's _sure_ that he's never fully fit the gender norms-- not the norms of the 2010s and _definitely_ not the norms of the 1940s. And it's got nothing to do with the fact that he's _bisexual_ , a term he'd clung to with desperate relief when he learned there was a word for it.

At least, he's pretty sure it doesn't.

This shit's complicated.

See, on the surface James Buchanan Barnes has always seemed like a pretty solid representation of traditional masculinity. Sure, he's always spent a bit too long getting ready for dates with whatever dame had caught his eye at the time, and he had prettier and better-kept nails than plenty of women he'd known, but you only saw those details when you _really_ got to him.

To everyone else, Bucky seemed very solidly male.

 _Except_.

Now, here's the part where it gets a little shaky for Bucky, because he can't be sure how much of the images that have drifted to the surface of his mind are _real_ and how many are just plain wishful thinking.

What he does remember is spending long hours in front of the dingey piece of semi-polished metal that served as a mirror for him and Steve. While he always complained about not being able to see his reflection properly, and Steve always teased him for it, there was a part of him that was always kinda grateful he couldn't _really_ see himself on a day-to-day basis.

Something about his body always just struck him as _wrong_. He's pretty sure he'd brought it up to Steve once, and it'd ended in one of their few shouting matches. Of course he hadn't been thinking about Steve's poor health when he'd brought it up, but he'd learned quickly to choose his words much more carefully from then on, at least when it came to matters of the body.

Bucky's always _known_ he's considered attractive, and he's never really been above using it to his advantage either. _Even in HYDRA--_ but that's not a trip down memory lane he wants to take, ever, if he can help it.

The thing is, though, _knowing_ he was attractive and that he stayed in good shape never really changed the sense of _wrong_ that he felt. He knew about the fellas down by the docks who dressed up like ladies, and rumor had it some of 'em had even had themselves _altered_ down below. But the thought of being a _woman_ wasn't something that sat right with him either, even if it'd been possible back then.

No, being a woman definitely wasn't something he was after, but he was never quite content with being a man either.

God bless the Internet for helping him put into words, finally, what had been kicking around in his head for years.

 

* * *

 

"Hey, Buck, you mind givin' me a hand-- whatcha readin'?" Steve's always been like an over-excitable puppy, too interested in anything Bucky does. Most of the time it's endearing. Today it gets right under Bucky's skin, settling there like pins and needles right alongside the _dysphoria_ he's just been able to put a name to.

"None o' your damn business," Bucky growls, as he grabs the tablet cover and throws it over the web page he'd just looked at, a listing of numerous alternative pronouns people use. He's flushed red, like he's been caught looking at porn, and he's defensive as hell already on the off-chance Steve actually caught a glimpse of the screen.

But Steve just holds his hands up and takes a step back, giving Bucky his space like he's learned to in the long months since his recovery. He actually looks a little guilty, and Bucky sighs and shoves his tablet under the nearest couch cushion. Now he feels like an asshole, though he _knows_ Steve would refute it if he called himself one out loud.

Steve, meanwhile, is waiting with all the patience of a Golden Retriever. Bucky can practically see him with a tail wagging behind him and a tennis ball in his mouth. With a rueful smile, Bucky shoves himself to his feet. Steve's clearly cautious, but excited about something.

"Alright, punk, sorry for bitin' your head off, what is it you wanted help with?"

Now Steve's rubbing the back of his neck, a little sheepish, but his enthusiasm not quite dampened.

"I, uh-- I bought some groceries."

Bucky gives him a blank stare, because he doesn't understand why _groceries_ would require his assistance. Is this one of those domestic things? One of those normal human things he hasn't quite mastered yet? His brows knit together in the beginnings of a frown.

"...A lot of groceries," Steve clarifies.

Well, that'd explain the sheepish look then.

And then the other shoe drops, and Bucky groans, reaching up with his right hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, because of _course_ he couldn't have expected Sam to keep his big goddamn mouth shut.

"Don't be mad!" Steve begs, though it's a little too late for that already. "You know how much I've been beggin' him to let me help with-- with things, and this was the first thing he could tell me without actually breaking confidentiality."

Bucky had been seeing Sam therapeutically for three months now. He and Steve had both been on him since the start to find someone with more experience with PTSD and Bucky's somewhat unique trauma than Sam had experience handling, but so far Bucky had refused to budge. And amazingly, it hadn't made anything too awkward with anyone's friendships so far, even if Sam had to tiptoe around things talking to Steve about Bucky.

Anything mentioned in Sam's office was strictly confidential, Sam and Bucky had agreed, or anything over Sam's work phone or email. Anything else was fair game.

So, really, it shouldn't have surprised Bucky so much that he'd told Steve about his growing interest in cooking. It was just the _timing_ of the thing, that's all.

"Fine," Bucky responds flatly, not willing to cave on his annoyance yet but not quite willing to drag Steve over the coals for it either.

Of course, he was starting to reconsider by the time they'd unloaded over 30 paper sacks of groceries and at least 15 or 20 cookbooks. But by that time, too, Bucky was also starting to think that maybe Sam had the right idea when he'd casually mentioned cooking as a kind of self-therapy.

 

* * *

 

"You seem a little more cheerful," Steve comments, nudging the door shut behind him with his foot. Ever the houseboy, he'd eagerly scurried off to the grocery store to pick up the few things Bucky lacked for the dinner he planned to cook up that night.

Bucky grimaces, knowing Steve's referring to the day before, when he'd damn near bitten his head off just for asking what he was reading.

Before Steve can start backtracking hurriedly, Bucky makes a grab for one of the four bags perched atop Steve's truly impressive arms.

"Thought I only asked you to get a _few_ things," Bucky drawls. Steve's ears turn a charming shade of pink, and he clears his throat as he shuffles past Bucky to reach the spacious kitchen.

"I just-- well, y'know, while I was there..."

While Steve's back is turned, Bucky lets an infatuated little smile creep onto his lips. Steve is _ridiculous_ and kind of adorable, and Bucky's not about to damage this precarious thing they have going by letting _feelings_ come into the mix.

Luckily, or _unluckily_ , Steve's always been pretty fucking clueless.

"You at least leave some groceries at the store for the other folks who shop there?"

Bucky can never resist teasing Steve; it's always been a staple of their relationship.

"I didn't buy _that_ much--" Steve's just turning around from the fridge as he starts to reply, and he promptly slams his head into the top of it. The string of curses he lets out is both impressive and decidedly unpatriotic. Bucky's highly amused.

"You need a hand takin' out that _villainous_ appliance, Cap?"

Still rubbing his head, Steve scowls.

Bucky grins.

The rest of the evening, including the cooking of an impressive French-inspired meal, goes off without a hitch.

Well, mostly.

Bucky's been careful as hell about where he leaves his tablet and when he researches all this _gender_ stuff on it, even if he knows Steve's probably _way_ too good of a guy to ever actually snoop on it behind his back.

That doesn't mean he isn't always _itching_ to look up more stuff on there, especially now that he's stumbled into the labyrinthine collection of terms people use to identify themselves.

This stuff's eating _away_ at him, but Bucky doesn't have the faintest goddamn clue how to bring it up.

Luckily, Steve sorta breaks the ice first, clearing his throat as he pushes aside the plate that'd contained his third helping. Between the two of them, they could eat damn near a whole herd of cattle.

Bucky's immediately on guard, tense and worried as hell.

"Buck, you know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

He remains still while Steve speaks, but his heart rate has taken on an insistent thump. The adrenalin's already starting to flood his system, but he'll be damned if he's gonna flee the table because of some stupid conversation.

"Right." His tone is flat, expression giving little else away as Steve searches it anxiously. Steve bites down on his lower lip, gaze falling to the table in front of him while he fidgets with the edge of the table cloth.

"I just... You been on that tablet a lot lately-- which is fine! And I'd never break your trust or anything by--" Steve flounders, the way he always does when it comes to touchy-feely conversations, even if he's always been a _little_ better about Bucky.

Admittedly, that's till not saying much.

Bucky's immobile as stone, leaving Steve to fumble his way through the rest of his little speech.

"I'm just... worried, I guess. And I just wanted to let you know that-- that I'm not goin' anywhere, no matter what."

Steve gives him a little smile, one that looks strangly _pained_ , before he gets up and takes his plate to the kitchen. He even rinses it off, for once, probably to give Bucky time to compose himself.

He really doesn't have the faintest fucking clue what he's going to do now, and he's sure Steve's onto him.

_Fuck._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're worried about anything potentially triggering or whatnot, see the end notes!

It ends up being Natasha Bucky goes to, because Steve and Sam are a little too close for him to feel like he can spill his guts about this whole mess to Sam. Plus he's always felt like he's got a lot more in common with her, as good of a guy as Sam is.

Naturally, the discussion takes place while sparring. It helps that Nat's one of the few people who can keep up with Bucky in hand-to-hand combat, and she's wicked smart about it too, always keeps him on his toes.

"I think I fucked up," Bucky grunts, a few loose strands of hair flying as he ducks a roundhouse kick and swings at Natasha with his left hand. Rather than trying to dodge it, she uses his momentum against him with lightning quick reflexes, yanking him off-balance and sending him stumbling so a swift elbow to the back can send him down to the floor.

"No kidding. It normally takes me at least twenty minutes to get you down like that," Natasha murmurs, holding a hand out to help Bucky back to his feet. He winces a little as he stretches, back throbbing from the sharp blow she'd delivered there in a way that's strangely almost soothing. He's not sure what that says about him, and he doesn't examine it any closer to try to figure it out.

"Nah-- Well, _yeah_ , but that ain't what I'm talkin' about," Bucky clarifies, grabbing his water bottle from the mat so he can drain about half of it in one go. He's coated in a light sheen of sweat, same as Nat, but they both normally take a while to cool down properly before hitting the showers.

Natasha grabs her own water bottle, unapologetically upending half of it on her head. It plasters her tank top to her chest, but Bucky's long since learned not to sexualize her unless he wants broken fingers. His gaze stays on her face, his expression slightly anxious as he waits to see if she's got anything to say to that. But Nat's good at staying silent until the other person just lays it all out.

So that's what Bucky does.

He's still not sure of how to use some of the terminology he's found, or even what the hell he identifies as-- and he hasn't even started to refer to himself in any particular way in his _head_ yet, let alone come up with something else for everyone to call him. But he still tells her what he can.

Natasha's expression gives little away, as always, and she's silent until he trails off with a frustrated groan, heaving himself onto the bench near the padded wall and tilting his head back as if the high ceiling will have some solution for him.

"You know, you're probably blowing this whole thing out of proportion," Natasha finally says, calm in a way that's somehow both relaxing and frustrating. But she's like that a lot.

"You don't even know that Steve has any _clue_ about your gender... situation," she continues. "In fact, I've got a sneaking suspicion he had something completely different on his mind when he said all that."

Bucky lifts his head to frown at Natasha, who's drying her face of sweat and water with the towel around her neck.

"The hell's that supposed to mean?"

Natasha just smiles.

Bucky scowls and grabs his towel and water bottle to trudge irritably off to the locker room.

"Try not to break the shower this time!" Natasha calls out after him.

Of course, that's exactly what he ends up doing. Fucking fragile glass door.

 

* * *

 

 

After cleaning up the worst of the mess from the shower door, Bucky finally undresses and steps under the scalding hot spray of one of the other five showers in the locker room. He always showers like this, since HYDRA, hot enough his skin's always an angry red by the time he finally steps out. Luckily, he heals quick.

If Steve knows just how hot Bucky takes his showers, he's never commented on it outright, though he's given Bucky a look a few times when he's stepped out of the bathroom lobster-red, followed by a wall of steam.

At least Avengers Tower has a shit load of hot water, thanks to Stark's tech. Bucky's not sure he could ever use it all up.

His shower this time is perfunctory. Bucky only bothers with the shampoo and conditioner because he knows his hair always looks like shit after a serious workout, and he's regained at least _some_ of his prissy proclivities from before. For the rest of him, a bar of soap and washcloth get the job done just fine. He _still_ doesn't quite understand body wash, or why the hell anyone uses it.

Bucky's deep in thought by the time he finishes his shower, even though it was a short one. He towels his hair off roughly before drying the rest of himself off and tying the towel around his waist.

Then, he stops, suddenly uncomfortable.

Something just doesn't feel _right_ \-- and it's not the eerie sixth sense he gets about danger, honed to an art form while he was the Winter Soldier.

No, this is something about _him_ that just feels wrong.

Bucky thinks he might throw up. His fingers twitch, barely fighting the urge to dig into his skin and _claw_ at it, peel it back until he find something that feels _good_ and _right_ and _okay_.

He completely breaks down.

It's Steve who finds him there almost two hours later. Bucky's almost catatonic, and though he's long since stopped sobbing he's clutching his arms desperately with both hands and rocking back and forth.

Bucky Barnes is not okay.

Most of all, Bucky Barnes is not-- not a _guy._

Somehow, Steve's appearance makes the realization dawn like the clear start of a new day in Bucky's head. He-- they-- _ze_ grabs it like a lifeline.

"Steve--" Bucky's voice is hoarse. Ze looks broken, but like the calm after a storm.

"...You ever hear of the term nonbinary?" Bucky finally asks, gaze wary but hopeful as ze scans Steve's face.

Something clicks behind Steve's eyes, and he seems startled, confused, then relaxed and understanding in swift succession.

"Yeah, Buck. I have."

"I... I think I might be-- I mean, I don't know what I even _am_ , but--" Bucky cuts zirself off, making a tiny noise in zir throat.

Steve just gives zir a small smile, patient and understanding and supportive in all the ways Bucky never could have hoped.

"Yeah?"

Bucky just nods.

"Then let's go see what we can do to to make you feel a little more like _you_ , huh?"

Bucky could almost cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild violence. Brief mention of sexualization of a female character. Some fairly heavy gender dysphoria in here, including Bucky having a breakdown about it and having sort of self-harm thoughts.


	3. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An extra happy ending, Stucky-style.

Bucky was nervous, and ze _knew_ Steve could see it. Zir gender identity-- still somewhere in the grey area between genderqueer and genderfluid-- had slid smoothly into zir life with Steve.

Steve had switched seamlessly from masculine language to gender-neutral language, so easily Bucky was sure he'd been researching this stuff long before Bucky started to figure out zir _own_ gender stuff.

Things weren't perfect, of course, because they didn't live in a perfect world. But all the Avengers had been, well, amazing.

Natasha had told Bucky she was glad for zir before muttering something rude about Steve's intelligence under her breath in Russian. Clint had asked if he could tag along whenever they decided to broaden Bucky's wardrobe-- and he didn't mean it in a creepy way.

Sam was pleasantly surprised and genuinely happy for and proud of Bucky, so much so it made zir flush.

Thor had launched into an impromptu, booming lecture on the many, _many_ different Asgardian genders and sexes, before continuing on to describe those of other worlds he'd visited. Bruce had asked a few questions-- of Thor _and_ of Bucky-- and had made an interested noise as he scribbled some notes down.

Tony had been the wild card, the one Bucky was _really_ worried about, because while he could be casually and unthinkingly thoughtful, he could also be calloused.

Luckily, Pepper had been there to smack him in the arm and give him a serious warning look before he asked whatever question had first come to mind when Bucky and Steve told him. So he settled for congratulating Bucky on figuring stuff out, and he sounded pretty genuine about it too.

Things were actually really great, all things considered, in between the aliens and monsters and super-villains they had to fight.

Bucky was kind of in heaven, for over two weeks. Then ze made a casual comment that made _everything_ change.

"I swear you knew this stuff even before I had a clue," Bucky was saying. Ze was skimming the latest posts on the forum ze'd recently joined, one mercifully free of the excess drama found in many online communities.

Steve wasn't listening totally, engrossed in catching up on the news on his own tablet.

"Hm?"

"I mean, you knew I was hidin' something and you told me I could tell you anything 'n all of that. Was I that obvious?"

Now ze had Steve's attention, and zir friend was turning a faint shade of pink.

"N-No. Actually, I-- Not at all."

Bucky squinted suspiciously and could practically _see_ Steve start to sweat nervously.

 "Got somethin' you wanna share with the class?"

Steve's face and the tips of his ears were warming from pink to bright red.

"What makes you think that, Buck?"

Bucky gave him a very eloquent, _you serious right now_ kinda look. Steve quickly ducked his head and looked very interested in his tablet, and Bucky was about to start rolling up zir sleeves to get it outta him the hard way when Steve finally blurted it out.

"I thought you had a crush on me."

Bucky stared and blinked, zir mouth partway open in surprise.

"Oh."

 _Now_ Steve just looked uncomfortable, almost in pain, and he got to his feet without looking Bucky in the eye.

"Yeah, I know, it was just-- Can we just forget about it?"

Bucky startled them both when a quick burst of laughter escaped zir. But ze explained zirself before Steve could get angry, or offended, or hurt.

"No wonder Natasha called you a damn idiot. No, wait-- Steve, I've had a damned _crush_ on you since we were kids. But when I was lookin' up all that stuff and hidin' it from you, it was _gender_ stuff."

Steve's expression was slightly confused, but with a cautious hope growing underneath.

"So, you..."

"Wanna date you? Jesus, yes."

And that was pretty much that.

**Author's Note:**

> Very brief allusion to things along the lines of the Winter Soldier and HYDRA agents. 
> 
> Brief, ill-informed transmisogyny.


End file.
